


Stay the Night

by youreyestheyglow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, LDR, M/M, Minor Angst, Oneshot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:05:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa stayed in Japan for college, but Iwaizumi went all the way to America. Oikawa's team is absolutely convinced that Iwa-chan is a girl, all the way up until he comes to visit.<br/>And then I took it way farther than it ever had to go.<br/>Based on <a href="http://lets-go-dateko.tumblr.com/post/137852676004/iwaoi-university-headcanon-where-oikawas-team">this</a> and <a href="http://doppii.tumblr.com/post/139020642519/this-post-got-me-thinking-of-cute-college">this</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay the Night

“Girlfriend send you anything nice?” Yuusuke yells from the opposite side of the locker room.

_Have a good practice. Love you._

“Something like that,” I yell back.

_I had a great practice Iwa-chan <3_

“You still haven’t shown us any pictures of her!”

I slip my phone into my pocket as the team gathers around me. “And I’m not going to.” It’s unfortunate that it’s becoming normal to me, that the captain is this interested in my love life. Or, rather, lack thereof. It’s been a week and I’m feeling its absence.

“Oikawa’s too possessive,” mutters the kid in the corner whose bullshit I’ve refused to take.

“Yup!” I chirp.

“I bet she’s cute,” Yuusuke sighs. “Probably has shiny black hair –”

“Brown,” I correct.

“Shiny brown hair and beautiful brown eyes that catch the sunlight.” He sighs again.

“Well, you got the eye color right, anyway.”

“I _know_ things.”

“That brown is the most common eye color?”

“ _Things_. Like – wait. What’s her name?”

“Iwa-chan.”

“Things like: Iwa-chan probably has a good butt.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“And good boobs.”

Well, he’s got great pecs, so I’ll count it. “Also true.”

“Hot bod?”

“Definitely.”

He whistles. “You’ve got the hottest girlfriend.”

I smile at him. He takes it as confirmation.

Ryu sighs. “She’s probably really sensitive.”

Togami chips in. “I bet she listens a lot. I don’t think anyone could date Oikawa unless they were willing to listen a lot.”

“Hey!” I consider throwing my shoe at him, but no, I need that.

“Why won’t you let us see a picture?” Yuusuke wheedles.

“Cause I’m possessive.” I grab my bag. “See you all tomorrow!”

I walk out, safe in the knowledge that they will Facebook stalk me to try and find the elusive Iwa, the cutest girl of all time, the girl chosen by the guy who has an entire fan club. They’ll scroll right past Iwaizumi Hajime, a grump glaring at the camera, because he’s a boy.

I don’t know why they think I have a girlfriend. I’ve never once referred to Iwa-chan as a girl or as a she or as my girlfriend. Not once. Heternormativity is a hell of a thing.

I don’t know why I’m not bothering to correct them, either. Maybe it’s because Yuusuke saw me blushing three days ago – Iwa-chan got drunk, and he’s sappy when he’s drunk – and screamed that I had a girlfriend and he’d take her from me before the year was out. Mm. Yeah. That’s it.

My phone buzzes with Iwa-chan’s ringtone.

I wish he was here.

 

_I’ve taken up ballroom dancing._

_…….Iwa-chan, have the aliens taken over your mind? If they have, tell me, I wanna say hi._

_No dumbass, I’m serious. My friend’s sister dragged him in and he dragged me and it’s fun, I like it._

_Hello aliens! My name is Oikawa Tooru and I’ll be your guide for this trip through Iwa-chan’s head. First lesson: Iwa-chan doesn’t dance! I know he looks good in a tutu, but he’s no dancer._

_You don’t wear a tutu for ballroom. And I wanna teach you some. And I do dance, now. And I like it. So fuck off._

_Okokokokok but why do I have to learn? And I want videos._

_No videos, I’m not good enough yet. I’ll rewatch The Fifth Element with you if you let me teach you some._

_Done._

“Oikawa, it’s time to start!”

“Oh. Right.”

I skip up to my place in the line-up. Coach throws me some glances, but I don’t have time for that shit. I’ve recently discovered that Iwa-chan is more important to me than volleyball, and that volleyball isn’t half as fun if he’s not here. I’ve also realized that I’ve never played more than a match or three without him, and I think it’s affecting how well I play.

Sigh. Ah well.

“Was that Iwa-chan?” Yuusuke whisper-yells as we head onto the court.

I nod.

“Is she still cute?”

I consider. If I say yes, would I be agreeing that Iwa-chan is cute? Or that Iwa-chan is a girl? Because I really don’t want to lie. Yuusuke is growing on me and he doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t make anyone call him captain because “ _We’re all adults here, we’ve all been captains, as long as you guys respect my authority, what do I care?_ ”

He’s a pretty good guy.

I tilt my head at him. “Is that even a question worth asking?”

He grins. “I should never have doubted.”

I imagine Iwa-chan sitting on the sidelines watching me play. Why is he sitting on the sidelines? Maybe he’s injured. Definitely injured. I saved his life but couldn’t stop him from breaking his ankle. Why was his life in danger? Irrelevant, moving on.

I nearly miss a receive. Hmm. No imagination allowed, not on the court. I never realized I could _have_ this problem, where I’m thinking about things _off_ the court more than I’m thinking about things _on_ it.

I heave a sigh and toss the ball. Another point for my team. Yay.

 

“How’s Iwa-chan doing these days?” Ryu asks, sliding onto the locker room bench next to me. My stomach twists for a second into something like the annoyance I used to feel when Tobio was around, but I shut that _down_. I _will not_ feel resentment towards him. He was picked to play in the practice match tomorrow and I wasn’t, but it’s not his fault. It’s mine, for not playing as well as I used to. But I’ll get out of this slump. I just have to remember what it feels like to serve a ball the other side can’t touch, or to set precisely the right toss, and I’ll be fine.

“Didn’t you just ask that yesterday?”

“Lots of things can happen in a day.”

“Well, nothing happened to Iwa-chan.”

“You’re lyyyyyyyyyingggggggg,” Togami sings from across the room.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“How do you know!”

“You were blushing when you were looking at your phone!”

“Oh.”

“Did Iwa-chan send you a cute photo?”

I shake my head. “It was just a cute text.

“About what?”

“Iwa-chan _really_ enjoys ballroom dancing.”

I look down at my phone again, and there it is:

_No, really, I’m not kidding, I think you’d like it. Maybe. But I’d like it better if you were learning it with me. I’d rather dance with you in my arms than anyone else._

“Oh, she’s a dancer?”

“Mm.” That’s noncommittal, so it can’t _really_ be interpreted as confirming that Iwa’s a girl, right?

“Doesn’t ballroom dancing get kinda intimate?” Kenji asks, sliding in next to Yuusuke. “My ex-girlfriend did it. I went to one of her competitions. Got a little jealous. She broke up with me because of it. _Not_ one of my finest moments, but hey.”

I shrug. “I trust Iwa-chan.”

Sighs echo around me. Togami clutches his heart. “Cute, kind, faithful Iwa-chan. My idol.”

Noises of agreement fly around the room.

I raise a hand. “As long as we all know Iwa-chan is _mine._ ”

“Oh, yeah, of course, yep.”

“Wouldn’t dream of taking her from you.”

“All yours, dude. Yours.”

“ _Very_ good.”

 

“Oikawa, if we win this set, can we see a picture of Iwa-chan?” Ryu asks before serving. He’s been saying precisely that sentence for the past two weeks.

“Nope! And we’ll win the set anyway!” I smile at him as he serves.

We win the set, thanks to a setter dump performed by the most attractive setter of all time.

“About that picture…”

“Nope.”

“We just wanna know!”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

The way things are going, the entire team is gonna turn their back on me in protest. I wink at them. “I don’t wanna ruin anything.”

I turn away from them as I drink. Let them take that as they will.

“Does she wear flowery dresses?” Yuusuke yells. I ignore him. I’m too busy thinking about Iwa-chan in a flowery dress.

My phone buzzes. It’s becoming a bad habit of mine, keeping my phone in my pocket while I play. I shouldn’t do it. It’s a distraction and I could break it.

But I’m not playing right now, so who cares? I pull it out to check it. It’s Iwa-chan. What am I supposed to do, _ignore_ it?

_About to get on the plane, fucking finally. Probably gonna spend tomorrow jet lagged and with the family, but I’ll come visit you the day after?_

I shriek. I can’t help it. He didn’t tell me he was coming home! He didn’t tell me he had a break! He probably forgot, or thought he told me but didn’t, or dreamed that he told me, or something, but he _didn’t_ tell me, and now I’m gonna see him in two days! Two! He didn’t tell me!

_You didn’t tell me you were coming home!!!!!!!! Come see me!!!!!! Stay with me forever!!!!!!!!!! I miss you!!!! Have a safe flight!!!!!!!!! <3<3<3<3_

Someone snaps their fingers in my face. I jump back.

“Oikawa,” Kirei says, in the same voice he uses to give me the shit I refuse to take. “We have another match to play.”

“Right. Right. Let’s do it. Let’s play.”

“What happened, Oikawa?” Ryu asks as we head in for another match.

I hesitate. Me. I actually hesitate, for approximately the third time in my life. But I’m nervous! Saying it makes it real, and what if it’s not?

No. I’ve got more faith in Iwa-chan than that. I trust him. He wouldn’t lie to me. “Iwa-chan is gonna visit in two days. Day after tomorrow.”

“ _What_!?”

“Yeah!”

“Tell her to come here! We’ve got practice, she can come! She can even play a little if she wants, but we’ve gotta do some real practicing, so she’ll have to sit on the sidelines for most of it – unless you picked her for her volleyball skills.” He leans in and winks. “We’ll show you off. We’ll get you laid.”

“First time in two months,” I murmur, but honestly, it’s a good idea – Iwa can come play with us, he can be my ace again. I can play volleyball with him again. What a good idea!

“First time you’ve gotten laid in two _months_?” Yuusuke caws. “Shit, Oikawa, she’s far enough away, she’d never know if you got some stress relief once in a while.”

Ew. “Only douchebags cheat.”

Kirei gives me a look, and I amend my statement. “Only the worst kind of human being cheats.”

Kirei gives me another look, but I’m done. I’m a good person. I won’t bend to that kind of harassment.

I _would_ bend to Iwa-chan, though.

_Ooooooohhhh boy._

The ref blows his whistle and I hit the ball just a _leeeetle_ bit too hard. It ricochets off the opposite wall.

I don’t even care. It wasn’t my fault. It was a stray thought that threw me off a bit. Just a random thought, just a teensy-tiny slip-up of the kind I haven’t allowed myself for two months, of the kind where I picture Iwa-chan bending me over a desk and –

Oh, the other team is serving the ball, I should probably receive that.

I take a deep breath. The faster this set ends, the faster I can text Iwa to come play volleyball with me in two days. If he doesn’t come, I’ll have to wait until after practice to see him, and that’s too long. I need him now, I need him _yesterday_ , this is _too fucking long_.

I will end this set _now_.

Ten minutes later, the set is over as quickly as a set can end, and Coach is telling me he’s impressed and I should play like that all the time, and then I’m on my phone, texting Iwa-chan, giving him directions to the gym and everything, everything I can give him.

I hit send and breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold. Repeat. I don’t need to get emotional right now. I’ve had the self-control required to deal with this for two months. I’ve kept myself from even _thinking_ about him too much, ‘cause I knew it would drive me up a wall. I can’t relax just yet. He’s not here yet.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus. Calm. Thoughts of non-volleyball things are irrelevant. Discard them. Ignore them. They never happened.

I never thought my meditative practices would come in handy for anything other than maintaining my focus during a time-out, but it turns out they’re incredibly helpful when it comes to avoiding thoughts of Iwa-chan and his dick.

And when it comes to avoiding horrible thoughts of plane crashes and horrifying fears regarding _why hasn’t he texted me back yet_??!!?!?! The fact that his plane still hasn’t landed is totally irrelevant.

Iwa-chan doesn’t answer until two in the morning.

_I thought I told you when my break started? Maybe I dreamed it, sorry. But volleyball sounds like fun, I’ll bring my stuff and meet you there. See you in 36 hours. Love you._

I hide the sweatshirt I stole from him before he left and fall asleep with my hand on my phone.

 

“Everyone’s working hard today,” I observe, after our fifth lap around the gym. No one’s slacking, no one’s whining, no one even seems _tired_. Amazing.

“We’re gonna look good when Iwa gets here,” Yuusuke informs me.

“Oh my god.”

“We’re all gonna impress her. A cute girl watching us practice –” he sighs. “It’ll inspire us.”

I wonder idly if Iwa-chan will still be inspirational after they’ve seen him. Maybe I should tell him not to come, just so the image in my teammates’ heads won’t be ruined.

Ah well. At least after this they’ll stop telling me they have dreams about Iwa-chan. Kirei’s the only one I’m getting gay vibes from, and I don’t think Iwa’s his type. Or, Iwa had _better_ not be his type. If Kirei starts getting ideas I might have to break his pretty face.

Mm. There’s the second reason I haven’t told anyone Iwa’s a boy. It doesn’t matter if they make jokes about taking my nonexistent girlfriend from me, but if they start talking about Iwa-chan, they might die. I can’t take that risk. I need a functioning team.

Iwa-chan told me once that I was overly possessive. Ah well. We all have our crosses to bear.

I check my phone during the break. Iwa-chan sent me a picture. Family portrait? He said he was spending the day with –

I clamp my hand over my mouth and try to avoid applying the word _pathetic_ to the fact that I apparently can no longer receive a picture of my shirtless boyfriend without getting turned on. It’s been two months. It’s _not my fault_.

_Missed having a full-length mirror, it’s like they think I only need a mirror to shave._

I slap my phone to my chest as Yuusuke tries to peek.

“C’mon, Oikawa, you’re bright red, I know you got something, we all know you got something, what’d Iwa-chan send you?”

If I say _nothing_ , they’ll assume the worst. Or the best, depending on how I look at it. “A shirtless pic.”

I think I can actually see the steam coming out of Ryu’s ears from where he stands a meter away from me.

Yuusuke bows.

“What the fuck?”

“A student must bow to their teacher. Teach me your ways.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Wanna know how I did it?”

He nods. Ryu nods. The team gathers around and nods.

I rise and stand on my chair so they can all see me. My team is turning to me for guidance. I must not let them down.

“The most important factor in receiving shirtless pictures… is looking like this.” I look off into the distance, far above their heads, and imagine myself wearing a crown.

“Fuckin idiot,” Kirei mutters.

I smile down upon him, a king taking mercy on his subject. “And yet, you’re single, and I’m not.”

I jump down before he can answer. “Isn’t break over?”

A cheer rises from the team as we head back onto the court.

Iwaizumi will be here in 24 hours.

I cheer a little, too.

 

The pervasive tension is _amazing_. It’s like the entire gym has been electrically charged.

“Iwa-chan will be here in one hour,” I tell the team.

“We can’t slack off!” Yuusuke cries.

“We must impress her!” Kenji yells from the back.

“We’ve gotta make Oikawa look good!” Togami yells in my ear.

I smile beneficently at my adoring subjects. Iwa-chan will be here in an hour. He texted me when he left his house. He’s really coming here.

We begin practice with an outpouring of energy I’ve really never seen before. I almost wish Iwa would appear in a flowery dress for a minute, just so they wouldn’t get let down. Then again, I don’t think it would matter if Iwa-chan _was_ a girl. Most of the fun the team is having is with the fact that I’m dating a secret. They’d be let down no matter what.

The hour passes slowly, ticking on minute by minute. Every time the door opens my heart bounces. Even my usual meditative techniques aren’t helping.

We’re playing a match and it’s my turn to serve, and I won’t lie, my eyes have been twitching towards the door every half-second for the past ten minutes. Until –

My heart leaps. There he is! There he is! He’s here! Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan is here! _Here_!

He sets down his bag and kneels to unzip it. He’s not even _looking_ at me! He’s ignoring me! Rude!

The whistle blows and I serve the ball directly at the back of his head.

“Watch out!” Someone yells.

Iwa-chan turns just in time to receive the ball, sending it towards the setter on his side. Not even to me! “You’re supposed to send it to me! Mean, Iwa-chan!”

“Wrong side of the court, dumbass!”

I can’t even pout. This is a new experience for me, smiling so hard I can’t pout. “I had to keep an eye on the door, I can’t do that from the other side!”

“Well then, you’ve gotta suffer the consequences. Aren’t you in the middle of a match?”

“I’m not playing anymore without my ace!” I cross my arms over my chest and let my eyes rove over my teammates. I dare them to make me play without Iwa-chan. _Sorry, Togami, you might be the ace of this team, but you’re not the ace of my heart._

They’re not looking at me. Not a single goddamn one of them. Rude. Kenji’s mouth is wide open. I’m about to make a quip about catching flies, when –

“Wait.” Yuusuke finally finds his voice. “ _You’re_ Iwa-chan?”

“Iwaizumi. Why, what were you expecting? A pretty lady in a flowery dress?”

Yuusuke tilts his head to the side and raises his hands. Nods.

The rest of the team averts their eyes. Someone coughs. Ryu is bright red.

Iwa-chan looks at me with narrow eyes.

“Don’t look at me so suspiciously!”

“What’d you tell them?”

“Nothing! They just made assumptions, which I failed to correct.”

Iwa-chan huffs, but his face softens, and his lips twitch into something that might’ve been a smile for a second.

I grin at him. Not that I’ve stopped. But now I know he thinks it’s funny.

He shrugs off his sweatshirt and _lord almighty_ I love it when he wears tank tops. Love it. Looooooove it. Goddamn. Hello, Iwa-chan’s arms. Wow.

“Right, whose spot am I taking?”

I point at Kirei, standing next to me. “His.” Whoops. I sorta overrode Yuusuke there. Ah well.

Kirei rolls his eyes, and for a minute, it looks like he might not move. But Iwa-chan is tired today, and when he’s tired, he looks a little bit homicidal, and while _I_ think it’s cute, others seem to get rather intimidated. Kirei moves.

It’s unanimously decided that the serve in which I tried to knock Iwa-chan unconscious doesn’t count, since there was outside interference, so it’s still my serve.

I feel like I can breathe again.

I can work with any team, no matter what, no matter when, no matter who. Anyone. Even Kirei. It’s like switching cars – driving my car is most comfortable, but if I’ve gotta drive my mom’s I’ll manage just fine. Volleyball might be easiest when I know the team I’m working with, but I can switch teams easily enough.

But.

But when Iwa-chan is on my side, I feel better.

I serve, and it’s a good one, and the rally begins.

When the ball comes to me, I consider my options. But I don’t really have any. I don’t _need_ any. The ball goes to Iwa-chan, and he spikes it perfectly. I high-five him, which is a mistake, because I haven’t gotten laid in two months and I missed him and touching him at all is enough to set my veins on fire. It _does_ make me feel a little better to note the way his eyes darken, but in the end, I just have to work that much harder to avoid a boner, so really, overall, a very bad decision.

“Hey, trashykawa, focus.”

“I am!”

“Being better than you isn’t half as fun when you’re distracted.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan! You need to learn manners! Again!”

It’s a good match. Things flow when Iwa-chan is around, instead of jumping from one serve to the next. I can feel his presence next to me, like I’ve got a sixth sense just for him. An Iwa sense. Iwa-chan sense? I know where he is. I can feel him there. I can toss to him and trust that he’ll hit it and trust that he’ll hit it well. With the rest of my team, I can only put perfect trust in myself: I trust myself to give each player precisely the toss they want. I can trust the rest of the team, too, but there are limits. They don’t know how to read my mind, and I really don’t know how to read theirs.

But it’s not like that with Iwa-chan.

I know exactly how he thinks, and he knows exactly how I think. If I give him instructions, he doesn’t bother doubting or questioning them, and vice versa. If I give him a toss, I know he’ll hit it with everything he’s got, and he knows that if he’s in the right position for a toss he’ll get it. We know each other. Being back on the court together feels _right_.

“Good to see your serves aren’t leaving the court anymore.”

“Iwa-chan, if the ball isn’t going to connect with your face, there’s no point in it leaving the court.”

“Are you sure you’re not just losing your touch?”

“I think my touch has gotten better, honestly.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“Dumbass.”

“Iwa-chaaaaaan, you know you love me.”

“Shut up, shittykawa.”

“It’s all right. I love you too. _Woo_ nice spike! I’m proud!”

“What are you, my mother?”

“I hope not, I wouldn’t like to think you had an Oedipal complex. Hey! Hey! No hitting on the court!”

“I’ll wait until we’re off the court, then.”

We win that set, and the next. And the next two matches. And I’ve won matches against my teammates before, but they never felt as good as winning when Iwa-chan was on my side.

That, and it’s fun to keep an eye on my teammates, ‘cause they keep glancing at Iwa-chan whenever I’m not looking. It’s nice to know that my dedication to avoiding pronouns has paid off so well. They all look a little dumbstruck.

I hope they’re also catching my _hands off_ vibes. Look but don’t touch. He’s _mine_. Only _I_ am allowed to touch. And I do. As much as possible, without throwing me off too much. His arm or shoulder between rallies, his back when we have to move to block, his skin for no goddamn reason at all.

“The only thing you haven’t touched is my hair, wanna get on that, too?” He asks dryly.

“Yes! It’s a good thing you’re short, it makes things easier.” I slide my hand through his hair. “Ooooooh, so soft. So soft. Soooooooo – ow! It stabbed me!” I clutch my hand. “I just wanted to pat it!”

“That’s what happens when you touch my hair!”

“You offered! How much gel is in there, anyway?”

“And then you insulted me. Our good-faith agreement was broken. And there’s not that much. It’s a natural self-defense mechanism.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Shame.”

And then practice is over, and we’re all sweating on the sidelines.

“Ryu, if I toss to you, you’re supposed to hit it, you know,” I say.

He flushes. He’s not looking at me.

Right.

I turn to Iwa-chan and give him a look.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He asks immediately. _God_ , I love him. He _understands_ me.

“It’s in the back, behind the –”

“I’ll show him the way,” Kirei interrupts.

“That’s really not –”

“You can’t give directions to save your life. I’ll show him, if you won’t.”

Iwa-chan shrugs. Technically, he’s right. He can loiter long enough for me to have a nice heart-to-heart with the rest of my team even if Kirei’s waiting outside the bathroom for him.

The problem is, Kirei was the only one who didn’t look particularly disappointed at the fact that Iwa-chan is a big buff man instead of a cute sensitive woman. And that’s a little hard to communicate.

Ah well. Iwa-chan loves me. I trust him.

I wait as he heads for the exit.

The minute the door slams behind him, 12 heads swivel towards me.

I smile at them.

Yuusuke – bless him – speaks up first. “Iwa-chan is a _guy_.”

I turn my smile on him. “Yes he is, and also, I’m the only one allowed to call him Iwa-chan.”

“Right. Um.”

I wait, but nothing else comes out.

I sigh.

Nothing.

“Iwa-chan will be back in approximately two minutes, and then Honesty Hour with Tooru is over.”

No one says a goddamn thing.

“Ryu, you’re blushing.”

He covers his face with his hands and mutters something.

“I don’t speak whatever language that was.”

Yuusuke puts his hand up like we’re in class. “He said it, okay, I’ll repeat it, but he said it, just wanna get that straight, okay? And also, I’m your captain, so you can’t yell at me.”

“It’s straight. Continue.” Ha. Straight. Right.

“He said: who tops?”

The outburst of snickering is _incredible_.

“Iwa-chan.”

The outburst of snickering dies out like a fly that’s been run over with a steamroller.

“Most of the time.”

Twelve faces turn away from me.

“Is that it? Is that the crux of the problem here? Can we move on, now that I’ve cleared that up?”

Yuusuke raises a finger. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it’s all well and good if you make jokes about taking my girlfriend from me, seeing as I don’t have one.” I lean towards him. “But, Yuusuke-kun, if I hear a single joke about Iwa-chan leaving me, I might have some issues.”

He holds his hands up. “He’s all yours.”

“Good!” I _really_ need to start thinking of Yuusuke as my captain. I should probably show him more respect than this.

“I hope you get laid tonight.”

“Thanks, Yuusuke. It means a lot to me.”

He claps his hands. “Right, everyone, time to get cleaned up and get out.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Iwaizumi and Kirei?” Togami asks.

Yuusuke grimaces. “We can bundle Kirei out quickly enough. No need to wait for Iwa-ch – for Iwaizumi, though, Oikawa can wait for him.”

Ryu frowns, but Yuusuke takes charge. Before my very eyes, the team becomes organized and focused, single-mindedly working towards the goal of _getting Iwaizumi and Oikawa alone together ASAP._ I feel tears budding in my eyes. I’m on such a great team. I’m so impressed. I’d like to individually thank each and every one of them.

Until, of course, Kirei and Iwa-chan walk through the door. I’d like to individually thank all of them except for Kirei, unless shoving a cactus up someone’s ass is considered a thank-you. Iwa-chan looks annoyed, and Kirei looks even more like an asshole than usual.

“Kirei! We got all your stuff together. Are you ready to go?” Ryu asks, shoving a bag and a bundle towards him. He’s still halfway across the room.

“Already?”

“Yeah, we’re on our way out.”

“No one got Iwaizumi’s things together.”

Ryu shrugs. “Ah, well, whatcha gonna do. Ready?”

Kirei takes his things and walks out without a backward glance.

Good. Very good.

The rest of the team follows him, winking at me and waggling eyebrows. Amazing. I should take them all out for pork buns. They deserve it. Not Kirei, though. He can fuck himself. Because he can’t get laid because no one likes him because he’s a fucker. He doesn’t deserve pork buns.

Iwa-chan watches them all file out with bemusement written all over his face. “Why were they all winking at you?”

I shrug innocently. Does he realize we’re alone together for the first time in two months? “No idea. Why did Kirei look like he’d been shot in the face?”

He stares at me. “I’m not telling til you tell.”

I huff. Is he making me wait on purpose? “Two days ago, they said they were gonna get me laid. This is their way of accomplishing that.”

He snorts. “Not that we needed their help. But anyway, Kirei asked if I’d ever considered dating someone who _wasn’t_ a dumbass. I told him no. He asked why I’d date someone like you when there are better people in the world, and I told him it was because there _aren’t_ better people in the world. He asked if I’d ever bothered trying to _expand my horizons_ and I said no. He just rolled his eyes and walked away, so I followed.”

“Amazing.”

He smirks. “I think marathoning alien movies expanded my horizons just fine, honestly. I don’t know what else he could’ve shown me.”

“I’m glad my love for aliens keeps you by my side.”

“Keeps me by your side? Honestly, I think it would be easier to list the things that would take me away from you than to list the things keeping me here.”

We’re practically on top of each other. I reach for his hand. He lifts his other hand to my face. I only have to tip my head down a centimeter before he meets my lips.

I kiss him softly. And wrap my hand around his waist and grab his shirt. And I kiss him again. Because I can. Because he’s here in front of me for the first time in two months and it’s catching up with me, the fact that it’s been two months, the fact that he’s _here_ , the fact that his fingers are tangled up with mine and the fingertips on my cheek aren’t imaginary.

It hits me that I’ve been really sad, these past couple months.

I’m not used to living without him.

But it’s okay now. He’s here now. I slide my tongue into his mouth, and I can taste him, and _I’m not dreaming_. His nose bumps my cheek, and _he’s real_. I can smell him and it’s not the faded scent on the sweatshirt I stole from him.

He must be thinking something along the same lines, because we have to break apart – we’re both grinning too hard to keep going. I rest my forehead against his. We’re both breathing hard, panting into the little space between us. I keep my eyes open. I want to see him.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. His eyes flutter open.

“I know.” Shout-outs to Star Wars are _never_ inappropriate.

He rolls his eyes. “Nerd.”

“ _Your_ nerd.”

“And I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I clutch him more tightly. “I love you.”

“I know.” He reaches up to kiss me again, but it’s not soft this time. It’s needy.

That’s all right. I need him too.

He presses into me and I stumble backwards, pulling him with me until my back hits the wall. He’s not just holding my hand anymore – now he’s holding it in place. His whole body is pressing into me. I pull him against me as tightly as I can and he remembers my other hand and actually stops kissing me long enough to reach around himself and grab my wrist. Slowly, slowly, he lifts both of my hands above my head, pinning them there.

He meets my eyes for a second, and my heart actually stops beating entirely. God help me, he looks so good like this, cheeks flushed and pupils blown, breathing like he’s run a marathon, all because of _me_.

His nose bumps against mine before he gets the angle right, but I can’t blame him. I’m losing whatever control I had, whimpering as he pushes his knee between my legs, panting as his tongue licks into my mouth, practically crying when I feel his erection against my thigh. “N-not here,” I force myself to say as soon as I can catch a breath. “Not _here_.”

“Why? ‘S not like anyone else is gonna come in,” he pants, hips rocking against me.

“No lube.”

“Don’t need lube for everything.” He bites his lower lip. _Dear god_.

“Iwa-chan, I need you to fuck me. I need your dick in my ass. I need you to slam me so hard I can’t sit down for a week. _We need lube._ ”

He groans involuntarily and kisses my throat. “How far away is your dorm? Is your roommate in?”

“Roommate went home for three days – sister’s wedding. Dorm is a ten minute walk away.”

The whole _ten-minute walk_ thing is getting to him, I can tell. But we _cannot_ do this here. First of all, I want him inside me. Second of all, once he’s fucked me within an inch of my life, I want to lie down and not move for a week. Third of all, I feel like I deserve a king-sized bed strewn with rose petals and surrounded by candles, but if the choice is between a dorm room and an actual gym, I’ll take the dorm room. “ _Iwa-chan_ ,” I breathe. “I _need_ you inside me.”

His eyes darken, and y’know what, I should’ve brought some goddamn lube with me.

We split apart to gather our things, and we’re out faster than anyone has ever exited this gym before. I grip his hand like he might disappear if I don’t, and he presses kisses to my neck every time we fall into the shadow between streetlamps. We hurry home through the chilly night air, stumbling into dark corners every so often because groping each other in public is frowned upon.

In private, though, that’s different, even if the privacy in question is limited because it’s in the hallway and I haven’t managed to open the goddamn door yet because Iwa is behind me with both his hands on my ass and his mouth on my neck and I swear to _god_ my breathing can be heard down the entire fucking hallway, but y’know what, my neighbors should be grateful I’m not moaning, too, because I’m only holding back for their sake.

I don’t even go through the door face-first. As soon as the censor beeps, I’m facing Iwa-chan, falling through the doorway with my arms wrapped around his neck, and the door barely has time to slam shut before I give in and moan. I can’t help it, his hands are sliding down my pants and –

“Listen, I don’t care what you do, but I _need_ a warning, and don’t you have a boyfriend?”

My eyes shoot open as Iwa-chan jumps away from me – a bad choice, since now there’s nothing concealing his boner from my mildly disturbed roommate.

Iwa-chan raises a hand. “I _am_ the boyfriend.”

“I thought you left for your sister’s wedding?” I squeak.

Hideki shakes his head. “Why would I leave on Thursday and miss an entire day of classes when her wedding isn’t until Sunday?”

“O-oh.”

We should’ve stayed at the goddamn gym. We could’ve exchanged blowjobs, that would’ve been good, and at least the gym was _empty_. Now our only option is the bathroom, and that’s gross, honestly, it’s worse than the gym floor.

Hideki stands up. “Gimme half a minute. I’ll spend the night at my boyfriend’s.”

My heart leaps. “A-are you sure? I didn’t mean to kick you out…”

“I am absolutely sure. More sure than I’ve ever been in my entire life, honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” Iwa-chan offers, but he doesn’t really look all that sorry. Mostly, he just looks impatient. If Hideki had been packed up and gone two minutes ago, it wouldn’t have been too soon.

He packs quickly, though, shoving clothes directly into his school backpack without concern for precisely what books he’s bringing. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon before I leave, so, um, yeah.” He gives us a thumbs-up as he opens the door. “Have fun.”

The second the lock clicks, Iwa-chan’s knee is between my legs again, and he’s pulling me against him, and I’m breathing so hard I can barely kiss him. Finally, _finally,_ we head backwards towards my bed, towards lube, _finally_ , I need him so bad it _hurts_ –

Someone raps on the door.

I fall onto the bed and it creaks, loudly.

Shitfuck _damn_ now they know we’re in here and we can’t just stay silent until they go _away_ , not that I’d have been able to stay quiet anyway but now I’ve gotta answer the door with a raging erection.

Unless I don’t.

I stare up at Iwa-chan.

He stares back at me.

We wait.

“Oikawa, I know you’re in there, Hideki was talking to _someone_ on his way out and I know it wasn’t himself. We’ve got a floor meeting. Mandatory. I sent out three emails.”

I groan. “Hideki isn’t going!” I yell. “Why do I have to?”

“Hideki _is_ going, because I grabbed him before he could escape,” Noboru explains patiently.

“Then he can just tell me what you said! I don’t need to be there!”

“It’ll take five minutes, Oikawa, what are you doing that can’t wait five minutes?”

I stand, walk the five steps to the door, and fling it open. “I’m _trying_ to _do_ my _boyfriend_!”

The guy walking past Noboru stops and stares. I ignore him. I _need_ Noboru to understand that my dick is in _pain._

“It can wait five minutes.”

If I have to commit murder to get laid, so be it.

But Iwa-chan slides his hand into mine. “I’ll go with you.”

I give him a pleading look. Doesn’t he understand that if he just lets me strangle Noboru, we can finally do what we’ve been trying to do for the past half hour? Doesn’t he get it?

“ _Thank_ you.”

Noboru leads the way to the lounge.

Everyone else is already there, already staring at us, the ones making them wait longer than necessary to start. Rude. It’s not like I _want_ to be here.

We sit down in a corner on the floor. Honestly, I’d prefer to stay standing – makes it easier to leave – but hiding a boner is way more difficult when standing than when sitting. So we sit.

I hear approximately three percent of Noboru’s speech. It’s something about the importance of not smoking in the dorm rooms, I think. He goes on for a few minutes, so it can’t be _just_ that, but then again, who the fuck knows? Not me! All I know is that Iwa-chan is squished up next to me, leg shaking like he’s trying to cause an earthquake, and I’m just about ready to sit on his dick here and now and fuck the consequences.

But I don’t. Lube is important. I don’t need those kinds of problems in my life.

The only words I hear, crystal clear, are: “All right guys, thanks for showing up –” because I’m grabbing Iwa’s hand and dragging him down the hall, back to bed, back to where we left off.

Maybe not _quite_ where we left off.

He doesn’t even let me walk to the bed. Maybe he’s worried that if he doesn’t have total control over the situation, someone else will interrupt – my fanclub, or his parents, or a long-lost second cousin, or the apocalypse. Regardless, I hardly manage to get the door open before he scoops me up bridal style and carries me in, which is officially the most romantic situation I’ve ever been in, and also the most nerve-wracking, because I really can’t resist kissing his throat when my face is only half an inch away, but that makes his knees buckle. I’m saved only by the fact that the room is approximately two square meters large and my bed is as high off the ground as I am, so he gets me on the bed without killing me.

“Lube?”

“Desk.”

He rips the drawer open and finds the lube and condoms in record time, and then he’s in front of me again, where he should be. He tugs at my shorts with warm, calloused fingers, and I forcibly blank my mind out to avoid actually thinking about those fingers on my – anyway, to avoid an embarrassing and premature mess, I think about absolutely nothing while I lean back and tilt my hips, and he tugs down shorts and boxers alike and tosses them who-the-fuck knows where. I pull off my shirt. It gets in the way.

“Roll over,” he says, in a much deeper voice than normal. I comply with much more speed than usual. And not just because I need to bury my groan in the mattress.

His hands are on my ass and moving down to stroke the backs of my thighs and back up to spread my ass, probably just so he can feel the way my muscles shudder when he touches them.

And then I feel his _tongue_.

I shove my face into the mattress so hard that I can’t breathe for a minute. _God_ , he’s – he’s _Jesus,_ he’s – _Christ_ – every flick of his tongue, every thrust, every – “ _Iwa-chan_ – oh _god –_ ” I clutch the sheets, grab them so hard one corner pops off the bed, and it’s not _enough_ , I need his dick inside me and his shoulders under my hands, everything is yielding too easily. And then he _sucks_ and I think that was me screaming, ah well, no regrets, not when Iwa-chan is licking my asshole, but I’ve been waiting _too long_ and I’m too worked up and – “Iwa-chan – Iwa-chan – I’m gonna – _Iwa-chan_ –”

He wraps his fingers around the base of my dick and I groan, oh god, what did I do to deserve this, my toes are curling up and my calves are cramping up but _Iwa-chan’s hand is in the way_ –

I pull in the deepest breaths I can manage. “Iwa-chan, I think I’m okay now, but hurry up, fuck me, fuck me fuck me _fuck me_ –” He lets go of me and I pant and whine at the fact that he’s not touching me at _all_ , that’s cruel, but I hear the snap of a condom and the click of a bottle and a hand around the base of my cock again so that he can slide a finger inside me without making me come instantly, and this should be considered cruel and unusual torture because I’m _dying_. Iwa-chan moans and silences himself by digging his teeth into my back, and it stings and he slides a second finger in and I kick my feet and narrowly avoid kicking _him_. “ _Iwa-chan, Hajime – Hajime –”_

“Oikawa –”

 _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, _fuck_. Fuck. Fucking fuck. That’s a third finger and I know Iwa-chan is big and I know it’s been a while but I _do not care_. “ _Iwa-chan!_ Jesus _fuck_!” I feel so _full_ and when he crooks his fingers all I see is stars and when he spreads his fingers apart a little I nearly black out. Why is his hand still around my dick? Don’t I deserve to come by now? No, no I don’t, not until he’s fucked me, with his dick, not just his fingers, he’s moaning against my spine but it _doesn’t count_. “ _Hajime!”_

“ _Fuck_ –”

He pulls his fingers out and I _whine_ because _oh god I didn’t want to be this empty_ , and Iwa-chan is taking too long to put lube on because he’s only using one hand, but the bottle clicks shut and the sound is my goddamn _salvation_ and then he slides into me, slow, thick, _slow_ , _oh god_ , and stars are bursting behind my eyes and this would do me in entirely but _he won’t let go of my dick._ “Fucking _shit fuck goddamnit Hajime!”_

“Oikawa,” he groans. “Oikawa, Oikawa, Tooru, I – oh _fuck_ –”

I whimper when he grinds his hips into my ass.

“Are you all right, is this –”

“ _Iwaizumi Hajime if you don’t fuck my ass –”_

Some small noise escapes his throat and he _moves_ and he’s not bothering to go slow, thank god, oh _fuck_ , he’s slamming into me so hard and so fast I can’t even push back against him, all I can do is kick the bed and scream into the mattress and beg him to _take his hand off my dick please please Iwa-chan please_ –

And then he _does_ , stroking upwards, and that’s all it takes for my whole body to clench up and my vision to go black and everything is on _fire_.

It fades slowly, but Iwa-chan pulling out of my ass drags me back to earth quickly enough. He presses kisses to my back, but I get the feeling that’s at least partially because he isn’t sure how to get off the bed without falling.

“You ok?” He asks in a rough voice.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Can you sit up?”

“Nope.”

I feel his hand go to my hip. He pushes gently until I fall over.

“You shouldn’t be on your bad knee for too long.”

I smile up at him. “So considerate.”

And then.

I see it.

The fucking _jizz_.

In the _middle_ of my goddamn bed.

 _I_ should’ve worn a fucking condom.

Iwa-chan chuckles. “Got another set of sheets?”

“ _Fuck_.”

“You _don’t_?”

“I do, but now I have to get _up_.”

He smiles at me. “If I’ve gotta get up, you’ve gotta –” He hits the floor with a _thump_.

Well, if there’s one thing guaranteed to get me up and moving, it’s the promise of seeing Iwa-chan sprawled on my floor ‘cause he forgot the bed is a little higher than his is. I scramble around until I see him. “Iwa-chan, if you’re gonna get up, you should probably get _up_ instead of _down_.”

He reaches for me and I scramble back towards the wall.

“Careful, don’t put your hand in your jizz.”

“Jesus!” I squawk, bouncing towards the foot of the bed.

“For someone who couldn’t move twenty seconds ago, you’re pretty lively now,” he grumbles as he stands.

I take a moment to appreciate the fact that my boyfriend is absolutely the most beautiful human being on the entire planet, excepting me, of course. Watching him peel off the condom is, strangely, a good experience. “Mm. Well. Gotta change the sheets.”

“You have to get out of bed for that.”

I sigh. That’s more work than I wanted to do.

Iwa-chan extends a hand to me, and when a naked Iwa-chan reaches out I accept. He hauls me into a standing position. “All right?”

“I won’t be able to sit down for a little while, but yes.”

He smirks. “See, if we’d stayed at the _gym_ …”

“Ugh. No. I don’t wanna be surrounded by the smell of feet for any longer than necessary. If we’re here, all we have to smell is the mold coming through the vents.”

He presses his face into my shoulder. He’s not making noise, but I can feel his shoulders shaking, so I assume he’s laughing. I kiss his head. His hair smells nice.

“Right,” he says when he surfaces. “Sheets.”

He pulls the unfortunate mess off the bed and examines the mattress pad. “Looks fine. Laundry basket?”

“Under the bed.”

He grimaces.

“I’ll do laundry tomorrow. I won’t let it sit.” I pull my other set of sheets out of my dresser.

Making the bed is much easier when Iwa-chan clambers over the mattress to get the corners next to the wall, and I only have to do the easy corners. It’s also much easier when I get to watch my naked lover crawl around on a bed. What a beautiful world this is.

I load blankets back onto the bed, and Iwa-chan tucks them all in on the side next to the wall. I don’t bother tucking them in on my side – how’ll we get under them? I climb on – slowly, really slowly, my ass hurts – and Iwa-chan and I sit pretzel-style, knees touching. I take his hand and flip it over and trace the lines on his hands. He’s so beautiful, even his _hands_ are pretty. Is that _fair_?

“Trying to tell my future?”

“No.”

“Really? I figured you’d be checking out my love line.”

“Nope.”

“Worried?”

“You’re leaving again soon.”

He leans forward until his forehead touches mine. “I know.”

“I’m not used to living without you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Me neither.” He closes his hand over mine.

I trace his jawline. There were days – a long time ago – when I looked at his face and wanted to touch it, wanted to trace it, wanted to learn it by touch so well that even if I went blind I’d be able to tell his face apart from everyone else’s, and I couldn’t. I thought he’d run away from me. Leave me. Reject me. Ignore me. It was the one time I’ve been entirely wrong about how Iwa-chan felt.

I cup his cheek. I used to have dreams about doing this. I’d wake up and my hands would feel empty.

I hold him still as I tilt my head to the side and kiss him.

He leans into my hand and kisses me back.

On my loneliest days, back in junior high, I’d sit there and wish, and wish, and wish and pray and hope and beg that someday, on some unspecified date in the future, I’d be able to kiss Iwa-chan. Just once. Just one time. That was all I asked for – just to know what his lips felt like, so I could close my eyes and pretend they were on mine. Even on my best days I never considered _this_. But. Here I am, and there he is, and he’s sliding his tongue inside my mouth, and I used to be content with nothing, am I gonna cry away the time when I’ve got everything?

I roll forward over my legs and plant myself in his lap. He doesn’t stop kissing me. Or, I don’t stop kissing him, and he doesn’t pull away. His free hand glides up over my ribs, leaving goosebumps in its trail. I rock my hips against him.

He breaks away for a minute, gasping for air, resting his forehead against mine. “Oikawa,” he breathes. “Oikawa.”

I couldn’t stop rolling my hips now if I wanted to. I’m already hard, and he’s getting there, which, honestly, is impressive, seeing as ten minutes ago I thought I’d probably never use my dick again. Well, we’ve got two months to make up for. “Hajime.”

He straightens to look at me, eyes roving over my body before coming back to mine, looking at me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world. “Tooru.”

I surge forward to kiss him, but he pushes me away after a minute, fingertips on my chest.

“H-how do you wanna do this? Just hands or –”

I reach back and grab the lube and condoms off my desk.

“Not anal?”

“If I say ‘get inside me,’ will it kill the mood?”

“I don’t want to hurt you –”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Oikawa, I’m serious –”

I lean forward and trail fingers down his throat. “Me too.”

“Listen, if you can’t sit down for a week –”

“I’ll be overjoyed.”

“ _Jesus_.” It comes out as a moan.

I grab a condom and tear it open. Honestly. This man. What am I supposed to do with him?

Well. I mean. Aside from the obvious, of course.

He runs his hand through my hair, holding it out of my face as I roll the condom down.

I glance at his face. It’s always nice to catch him looking at me when he doesn’t think I’m watching – he looks at me like I’m the whole world. It was what convinced me to confess to him in the first place.

I lean in to kiss him and he meets me halfway, so gently I forget what I’m doing for a minute. He’s everything, the taste on my tongue and the skin under my fingertips and the scent in my nose and the moans in my ears – everything, it’s all him, and I missed him. I missed him so much.

His hips roll forward a little, and I gasp and remember _precisely_ what I was doing. Lube. I was going for the lube. I go for the lube again, and this time I manage it without any distractions. I lube him up liberally, and not just because it gives me a chance to rub my hands allllllllllllllll over his dick. For lots of other reasons, too. Mainly, because my ass needs kindness and care. Secondarily, because it’s driving Iwa-chan crazy, and that’s always something I can get behind. The sound of his panting is music to my ears. The little groan he cuts off – well, Mozart’s got _nothing_ on Iwa-chan. And the feel of his hands on my hips, quivering like they don’t know what to do, twitching down to my thighs every so often – I let out a breath.

He leans back against the wall as I lift myself up and reach down to guide him inside me. And, _Christ_ , he’s _smoldering_ at me, that’s _dangerous_ , doesn’t he _know_ that? I bite my lip and hold his gaze as I slide down, waiting until he shivers and tilts his head back before I give in and let my head fall forward. I’m not sure which I appreciate more: the feeling of my ass reaching his thighs, or the sight of his hands fisted in the sheets. I set it aside to figure out later, though, because one hand releases its death grip and reaches to tilt my chin up.

Iwa-chan meets my lips once, twice, three times, then moves on, across my jaw, and down my _neck_ , and oh _god_ does he know me well, he nips at the skin at the base of my neck, just above my collarbone, and sucks where he bit, and I shudder, I can’t help it, I can’t help the way my hand threads through his hair and holds his head in place, or the way my thighs shake and my hips jolt. I can’t help the moan that falls out from between my lips. I can’t help it, can’t help it, can’t help it, he’s licking my throat and sucking another hickey into existence right above the first and I _can’t help it_ , oh _god_. “Hajime –”

I roll my hips, and it _burns_ , but then Iwa-chan’s thumb is circling the head of my dick and y’know what, it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. And his tongue follows my jugular, and that’s good, that’s _good_ , and oh look at that, I’m moving involuntarily, sliding myself up and down Iwa-chan’s cock, moaning and panting as he kisses every inch of skin that comes within his reach, chest shoulders nipples neck face _everything_ , and he’s gripping my ass, grabbing my thighs, grasping at my hips, helping me move, taking the pressure off my thighs, burying his face in my neck again. His hair is soft under my fingers, his shoulder doesn’t yield when I grab it, he lets me pull his head up when I need, _need_ , to taste him, to have the taste of him in my mouth and his scent in my nose, does he understand that I need him? He must, he does, he understands, he holds me and wraps a hand around my dick and strokes and when I break away to cry his name he mouths at my neck and holds onto me when I arch my back and clench my hand in his hair and shake so hard it feels like I might fall apart.

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the way he’s looking at me, with pupils blown so wide his eyes are nearly black, cheeks flushed and mouth open and chest heaving and everything I _love_ about pre-orgasm Iwa-chan. He’s so beautiful, so pretty, and still so hard in my ass, and I love him.

I start moving again.

Oooooh, this is hard. This hurts a little. Or a lot. No, not a lot, somewhere between a little and a lot. Ah well. It’s not bad. And I know how to make him come faster.

“Iwa-chan,” I pant. “Come inside me. I wanna feel you coming inside me, I want…” I trail off into a groan. The way he’s looking at me, if refractory periods weren’t a thing, I’d be willing to keep going for the next three hours, honestly.

I put one hand on his chest and graze my thumb over his nipple and revel in his gasp. I lean in and put my mouth right up next to his ear and say, “Take control, Hajime. Make me help you come.”

He grabs my ass with a groan, which, _ow_ , but it doesn’t hurt so bad I want him to stop, not when he’s holding me up and pumping into me and moaning my name.

I hold onto his shoulders, digging my fingernails in, gasping a little as I clench around him, because good _lord_ my poor asshole is about ready to give up. _Come on, Love. Soon I might have to ask you to stop, and I don’t want that._

Maybe he heard me, or maybe my perfect trust in him just paid off, because he’s there, stuttering inside me and stuttering my name as he shoves his head back against the wall, whole body straining towards me, fingers digging into my ass as he says something that may or may not be my name.

I study his face and commit it to memory. In these times of famine, I must appreciate everything I get.

When he relaxes, lowering his hips and loosening his hold on me enough that I can sit down _not_ on his dick, I kiss his nose. I like his nose. It’s cute. I kiss his temples, the corners of his eyes, his mouth when he blinks his eyes open. I run my hand through his messy hair and lean close so I can whisper “I love you” into his ear, and stay there long enough so he can stroke my hair and say it back.

“My thighs are cramping up,” I say eventually.

He nods and shakes himself, violently enough to bring some awareness back into his eyes. He grips my waist and half-lifts, half-drags me out of his lap and onto the blankets.

I look at the mess on my stomach.

He looks at the mess on his stomach.

I shrug. “At least we don’t have to change the sheets again. I only have two sets.”

He snorts. “Got any extra towels?”

“In the closet.”

“Speaking of which, I hope _you_ weren’t in the closet, ‘cause after all the noise we just made, I think everyone’s figured it out.”

I shrug. “If they care, I’ll fight them.”

He strips off the condom and finds the towels, handing one to me while he wipes himself down. He tosses both towels into the laundry basket under my bed. “Lights off?”

I nod, and he flicks the switch and makes his way back to me in the dark. He collapses beside me, rolling onto his side and threading his arm under the pillow. His hand finds my face and I scoot closer to him, tangling my legs with his and wrapping my arm around his waist.

“Good night, Iwa-chan.”

“Good night, Oikawa.”

He presses his lips to my hair, and I fall asleep feeling warm and safe for the first time in too long.

 

My alarm goes off with depressing familiarity and I hit it. And hair, I’m hitting hair. Iwa-chan’s hair. Head. Iwa-chan’s head. I am hitting Iwa-chan in the head because he’s between me and my alarm.

“Oikawa?”

“Mm?” I roll over him a little so I can hit the actual clock, and by a little I mean I dig my elbow into his chest a little and maybe end up with the rest of my body on top of his. The clock stops beeping, though.

“I hate you.”

“Mmkay.” Is there any real need to roll _off_ Iwa-chan? Mm. No. I’m comfy here.

He pets my hair.

I close my eyes and snuggle closer. He’s warm, and I can feel him breathing, and life is good. I love him.

“Oikawa?”

I hum against his chest.

“Are you going to class?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Okay.”

I kiss his shoulder. It’s a nice shoulder. I like it.

“I brought you a present. Don’t let me forget.”

“Iwa-chan, you didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I didn’t get you anything!”

“Mm. Don’t be too sure.”

I fold my hands on his chest and prop my chin up. “No, I’m sure, I didn’t. I haven’t been able to get off campus in the past two days.”

“You had it with you all along.”

He has a double chin when he looks at me from this angle. It’s cute.

“Are you taking something from me?”

He puts one hand behind his head so he doesn’t have to use his stomach muscles to hold it up – unfortunate, really, since now I don’t get to feel his muscles flex. But I _do_ get to see his arm muscles, so hey, I’ll take it. “Call it an exchange.”

“What’s the exchange rate?”

“One for one. It’s even.”

“What is it?”

“Not telling.”

“Iwa-chan! Not fair!”

“If you get up, I’ll show you.”

“I don’t wanna get up!”

“Well then, looks like you’re not gonna find out.”

I groan and he laughs. He has a nice laugh.

“How’s Madonna these days?”

I sigh. He’s changing the subject. But I don’t plan on getting up, so I suppose there’s no harm in talking about my favorite singer. “Her new stuff isn’t too great. It’s not exactly _Material Girl_.”

Iwa stretches out and gropes around the desk for his phone, finding it under the box of condoms. He holds it up above his face, scooching it further away when I try to see the screen.

“Iwa- _chan_!”

He pulls his hand out from under his head and uses it to push my face away. “Patience is a virtue, trashykawa.”

I kiss Iwa-chan’s thumb and grumble a little. He strokes my hair absentmindedly as he taps on the screen.

He drops it on his face.

I smile serenely at him while he growls about phones having lives of their own. “I think that’s called _karma_ , Iwa-chan.”

“Karma? For what?”

“I get a hand to my face, you get a phone to yours.”

He tugs on my hair.

“Rude! Also, don’t do that, unless you’re ready for more sex.”

He gives me an inscrutable look and returns to his phone. But I know him too well. All _that_ means is that he doesn’t know what to say. So humph.

And then I hear it.

The beat.

He grins at me as the words tear from my throat: “First you love me and I let you i-in, made me feel like I was born ag-ai-in, you empower – hey! Don’t shut it off as I’m hitting my stride!”

“I thought you said it wasn’t good?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t _know_ it!”

He laughs as he sets his phone down. “I guess you still work out to her stuff, then?”

“I mixed it up a little. I listen to Exid, now, too.”

“The kpop band?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t ask that if you’d heard them.”

He laughs. “That’s all you’ve got?”

I nod stubbornly. How do I explain the perfection that is _Hot Pink_? He’s just gotta listen to them.

“All right. Are you ready to watch The Fifth Element?”

He _oofs_ as I jab him in the stomach. “Of course I – oooh, oh boy, hold on, sat up too fast.”

He rubs his stomach as he sits up. He’s looking at me. Not looking at me – _looking_ at me. “What?”

“You forgot, didn’t you.”

“Forgot what?”

“Your promise?”

“What promise?”

“I’ll watch it, _if_ you let me teach you some ballroom.”

“Oh.” Why this? “You know, sitting up too fast makes you reallllllly dizzy, and it might be dangerous for me to –”

“Do you want me to watch the movie?”

I pout.

It does nothing. He doesn’t care. “Heartless Iwa-chan. Fine.”

“Ballroom first.”

“Movie first.”

He pokes me. “Dancing.”

I poke him back. “Movie.”

He pokes me harder. “Dance.”

I poke him as hard as I can. He nearly falls off the bed. “Movie!”

He jumps on me, and his fingers find the ticklish place under my ribs. “Iwa-chaaaaaaaaan! Stop, stop, oh my god!” I laugh. “Movie! Movie! We’ll watch the movie!”

He blows a raspberry on my stomach. “If you insist.”

“But let it be known I acquiesced under duress,” I proclaim as I sit up and reclaim my dignity. It’s difficult to do when naked and disheveled, but I manage it. “Why are you looking through my desk?”

He pulls out my breath mints.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah, your breath smells like ass.” He pops one in his mouth.

“If I remember correctly, _I_ haven’t eaten any ass in months, whereas you just ate some last night, so –” I catch the box as he throws it at me. “Listen, we _could_ just go brush our teeth.”

“That would require putting on clothes, then several minutes for teeth-brushing, and Listerine, and then you’d wanna wash your face and shower and –” he switches into a high-pitched voice – “whoops, no time for dance lessons.” He starts digging through my dresser drawers.

I stick my tongue out at him. “Rude.”

“But I’m right.” He throws a pair of my boxers at me and reaches into his bag for a pair of his own. No dancing with dicks out, I take it.

I take two mints, toss the box onto the bed, and stand like I’m going to my execution, pulling on my boxers like I’m still going to my execution but dressed a little more modestly.

Iwa-chan rolls his eyes. “Drama queen.”

“Don’t you want to ensure my cooperation?”

He steps forward and kisses me.

And kisses me.

Oh, _man_.

I am _really_ happy my mouth doesn’t taste like ass anymore.

When we finally break apart, breathless, because _goddamn_ that was a good kiss, he looks into my eyes and says:

“Please, Oikawa, I’d really like it if you’d dance with me.”

“That. Was. _Manipulation_.”

“Did it work?”

“Yup.”

Did he just lick his lips on purpose? ‘Cause that’s just cheating. He’s taking advantage of the fact that I’m soft-hearted and kind and loving.

He leads me two steps out into the center of the floor and starts saying something about posture. Stand up straight, shoulders back, neck long, et cetera, et cetera, I Do Not Care, I’ve got on that attentive face that tricks every single one of my professors into thinking I’m paying attention, and –

“Shittykawa, pay attention.”

I leap back, offended. “How do you know I’m not paying attention?”

“With _that_ face on?”

“I happen to think I have a gorgeous face, thank you very much.”

“Me too, but I know you’re not paying attention. You’re trying too hard to look like you are.”

“All my professors think it looks fine!”

“I know you better than they do.” And then he gives me that _look_. The one that’s all dark and broody and commanding. The one that’s approximately 1000% guaranteed to get Oikawa Junior to take notice. “Pay attention.”

I salute. “Yessir.” Little Me should stand down. Haven’t we had enough?

“As I was saying.”

Within minutes he’s got my arms in the proper position – and by _proper_ , I mean fucking _proper_ , if a hand is a centimeter out of place there’s gonna be a problem – and – I’m in his arms.

Oh.

All right. This isn’t as bad as I thought I’d be. Maybe if it wasn’t with Iwa-chan it would suck, but this is okay.

“There’s one basic step, the box step, all right?”

Iwa-chan turns out to be a patient teacher, even after I’ve stepped on his toes three times, and eventually we make it to the point where he can stop counting “ _one_ two three _one_ two three _one_ two three” out loud and I can start counting it in my head.

And it’s not so bad, honestly. It’s just the basic step, but I started out with the basics in volleyball, too, didn’t I? So I can put in some hard work here, too, and soon I’ll get better.

We can’t go very far – it’s a tiny room – but soon enough, we’re swirling in circles, holding a few centimeters between our bodies, hands clasped, necks long, and then I glance at Iwa-chan and he looks happy. Happy the way he is after hitting the winning spike in a volleyball match.

He sees me looking and stretches up to kiss me on the cheek and breaks our rhythm, and I step on his toes one more time before grinding to a halt.

“Are you thinking of competing?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t have time, with volleyball and school. And I don’t really want to, anyway. Mostly, I just wanted to dance with you.”

It’s not _my_ fault I’m blushing. It’s not! Really! “Why?”

He shrugs. “The posture looked like it would suit you. And it does. You’re gorgeous.”

“Oh.” I bite my lip. “So you just – got dragged into it, and saw people dancing it properly, and thought of me?”

“Yeah. Why?”

I jump on him. He catches me, somehow, god bless him, and holds me as I wrap around him like a weird starfish. He even smiles as I cover his face in kisses.

“What? Oh my god, Oikawa.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love that you think of me at random times.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, because you have a life?”

“Do you only think about me because you don’t have a life?”

“I _do_ have a life. I just –” I bury my face in his neck, which requires me to hunch over weirdly, which probably makes it much harder for him to hold me up, but ah well. “I don’t know, it’s nice to know you think about me as much as I think about you. I miss you a lot.”

“Oh. You don’t have to muffle your voice to say that, you know. I miss you all the time.”

“I know.”

I can practically _hear_ his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Ready to watch your alien movie?”

“Yup.”

He bundles me back into bed, but before he grabs my laptop I _remember_. “Wait!”

He looks at me.

“Present!”

“Oh. Right. Exchange.”

“Yeah, that too.”

He pulls something out of his bag and shakes it out, and –

“Oh my god, I have the same sweatshirt! Haven’t seen it in a while, though, like – two – two… oh.”

He pulls out another sweatshirt. This one is _not_ mine. “I’ll trade you one of your sweatshirts that doesn’t smell like you and one of my sweatshirts that does smell like me, for one of your sweatshirts that smells like you and the sweatshirt you stole from me before I left, which probably doesn’t smell like me anymore.”

“It’s in the back of my closet. The very back. Under the clothes I never wear.”

“What, you haven’t taken it out in that long?” He begins digging.

“I hid it so you wouldn’t know I took it.”

He pauses in his search long enough to give me a look that says I’m an idiot. I have to agree, honestly. Iwa-chan doesn’t have as much clothing as I do. He probably keeps better track of it just so that he doesn’t have to go outside naked.

“Grab the cereal on my desk, too, I’m hungry.”

He comes back to bed five minutes later with the laptop and the cereal, having performed the sweatshirt switch admirably well.

“I like this – I stay in bed all day, you run around doing my bidding.”

He pokes me. “It’s my turn next time.”

“I’ll wait on you hand and foot.”

“I look forward to it.”

We find a site that plays the movie – or, well, he does, and I watch – and he throws his arm around my shoulders so I can snuggle down into his side while we munch on cereal. I hope he doesn’t drop any in my hair.

I tear up a little when Leeloo appears. She’s just so good! So kind! So disenchanted with humanity! Well, not yet, but that happens eventually.

I teared up a little before that, honestly, when the Mondoshawans got ambushed. And when their ship got destroyed. And when Dallas appears and when Plavalaguna dies and –

I cry a little over a lot of things.

Iwa-chan reaches behind him to grab the tissue box off the desk and doesn’t make fun of me for crying over aliens. He never has. And I cry over aliens all the time.

So when Leeloo realizes that Dallas loves her and that there is good in humanity (arguable, but not right now) and saves the world, and I’m sobbing uncontrollably in Iwa-chan’s lap, he just strokes my hair.

“I-it’s not even a s-sad _movie_ ,” I tell him, in case he didn’t just see it. “And it’s honestly kinda shitty, but I grew up with it, you know?”

“Yeah.”

He’s right. I tell him this every time. But he doesn’t argue. I love him a lot.

“I just wish the main characters were aliens. Why do I care about humans? I just – wanna see aliens do cool things. Like have cultures of their own. And names. And characterization.” I sniffle. “Then again, since only white guys get that, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.”

Iwa-chan’s hand goes still. “You know what? It’s been so long since I heard you give that speech, I think I almost missed it a little bit.”

“Good.”

The door beeps and opens, Hideki peering around it like he’s ready to shut it at any moment.

I straighten up and wipe my eyes. “You can come in. It’s safe.”

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No, I was just crying about aliens.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Iwa rubs my back while Hideki gathers his things.

It’s the most awkward silence I’ve ever endured.

Hideki’s moving pretty quickly, though. Gotta say, I’m impressed.

And then I hiccup.

Iwa-chan stares at me.

I hiccup again.

Hideki actually stops what he’s doing to look at me.

“You don’t all have to s – hic! Stare at m – hic! Me!” I hiccup again.

Iwa-chan bursts into laughter and Hideki has a coughing fit.

“Rude! You’re all r – hic!” I shove my face into a pillow. Rude! Everyone is rude!

Hideki’s still snickering when he wishes us a wonderful weekend and leaves.

“Try holding your breath,” Iwa-chan suggests.

I blow out my cheeks like a fish and stay there. Forty-five seconds later, when I’m feeling light-headed and still haven’t hiccupped, I release it all in a rush and slump onto Iwa-chan’s shoulder.

“Life is so hard.”

“So’s my dick.”

“Is it really?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Why, is yours?”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

We sit in silence for a little while.

“Do you ever wonder if aliens have democratic systems of election?”

“No.”

“Are you wondering about it now?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, it would assume all aliens have the ability to think rationally about –”

“Ha! You’re wondering! Sorry for interrupting, go on.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling. “It would assume that aliens can think rationally, and that a democratic system would work for them. What if they can’t get to voting booths? What if they’re all mentally connected and voting wouldn’t be anonymous?”

“All good questions. On the other hand, how would that mental connection work? Would anyone be able to hide anything? Maybe there wouldn’t be a legal age at which people would be able to vote, it would just be whenever a person could keep a secret. Would babies be able to vote if they could keep a secret?”

“Is the secret-keeping ability innate?”

I kiss his cheek. “I love you. And I don’t know the answer.”

“You know, you don’t actually know the answers to any of these questions, and you really can’t. The universe is pretty big. You’d have to know the specifics of a single alien species to answer any of these questions.”

“I know.”

“Schrödinger’s aliens.”

“Yeah.”

“You generalize too much.”

“Yup.”

“You just wanna hear me talk, don’t you.”

“Yep.”

He keeps rubbing my back.

It’s good.

I slide back down and curl up with my head in Iwa-chan’s lap.

He shuts the laptop, sets it aside, and goes back to petting my hair.

“What time do we have to leave for volleyball practice?”

“Mm. Three.”

He twists to set the laptop on his desk and grabs his phone. “I’m setting an alarm for 2:30.”

“Mmkay.”

He slides down, jostling my head until it comes to rest on his shoulder.

I cuddle up to him, ready and willing to spend the next two hours passed out next to him, but it doesn’t work out that way.

I actually slept pretty well last night, and I haven’t done anything today. Like, at all. Except for ballroom dancing for twenty or thirty minutes. That barely counts. So I wake up after an hour or so, with Iwa-chan’s butt pressed against my hips, and a large problem named Oikawa Junior.

I nip at his neck.

“Mmf.”

“Iwa-chan,” I sing quietly.

He reaches around and grabs my head, holding it in place against his throat. “Mmm.”

“Iwa-chan, I don’t know what that means,” I whisper.

“Means ok.”

I forgot how slowly Iwa-chan wakes up when I’m not hitting him.

“Ok to what?”

“Mmf. Good question.”

I roll my hips against him and have an unfortunate flashback to Yuusuke asking if Iwa-chan had a good butt.

The answer is just as sincere a _yes_ now as it was then.

Iwa-chan twitches his hips and my problem gets a little bit more urgent.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Hmm? Mm. Mm-hmm.”

I stick out my tongue and lick a stripe up his neck and his entire _body_ jerks. “Awake now?”

“ _Jesus_.”

“Iwa-chan, pay attention. It sounds like you’re asking me to fuck your ass.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? It’s been a long time.”

“It… hasn’t.”

I blink. “I mean, it’s been two months since we saw each other… and before that, it was… a long time.”

“Since _you’ve_ been up my ass.”

I freeze.

What?

Iwa-chan pats my head. “I end up fingering myself when I think about you. Don’t ask me why. Doesn’t really make sense, considering. But I was up to three fingers last week, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

_Well._

“Oh.” I slide my hand down inside his boxers.

“Did you –” he ends with a gasp as I reach around to his half-chub. “D-did you think I cheated on you?”

“It worried me for a minute,” I answer absentmindedly. I slide my thumb over the head of his cock. He jumps. _Good_.

“I-I’m surprised you. You didn’t. Jump to the obvious conclusion there. Since you’ve been fingering yourself for two months too.”

I roll my hips against him. Those sentences were a little bit strained.

I grin and press my mouth to his neck. They’re about to stop being full sentences at all. I move my mouth up to his ear. “Haven’t been. I knew that if I touched myself, I’d think about you, and about your body, and your hands, and dick, and ass, and I’d drive myself insane.” He bites his lip, shudders. “I knew I’d end up calling you, begging you to come back, begging you to touch me.” He turns his head to muffle his moan in the pillow, but that’s no good – now I can’t say all this right into his ear. I trail my hand up, up, so I can trace his stomach, and he jerks, his head turning back towards me. Much better. “Iwa-chan, there’s no _way_ I could’ve survived these past couple months if I’d thought about you like that. So I didn’t touch myself at all, ‘cause my hands aren’t good enough. Not to replace yours.”

“ _Oikawa_ –”

I slide my hand back down to grab him through his boxers and press my hips against his ass.

“ _Oikawa_.”

I suck on his neck. His hips are twitching. I sigh. Boxers are such a pain in the ass when we’re both wearing them – they’re in the way and they don’t need to be, it’s just unnecessary. So I pull his down, as far as I can reach, and he wiggles them the rest of the way off, leaving me breathless. Good _lord_. I struggle with my boxers until they’re out of the way, and I’m sliding against Iwa-chan’s muscular butt, which is actually probably the best thing I’ve ever felt in my entire goddamn life.

Iwa nearly crushes my head as he reaches up, squashing my face between his shoulder and his cheek. He drops the lube half a millimeter away from my face, and then reaches up again and fishes around for condoms.

I’ve never felt this put-upon in my entire life.

But this is no time to pout. I don’t get to top very often.

I reach under his knee and bend it, lifting his leg up. He takes the hint and wraps his own arm around his leg, holding it up himself.

Lube is a problem.

One arm is still under Iwa-chan’s head.

If Iwa-chan could do it last night, I can do it now.

How the _fuck_ did Iwa-chan do it?

I open the bottle, stick it in my mouth, and turn my head so it slides out onto my hand. Very good. I managed all on my own. How the fuck do I close the bottle when my only available hand is covered in lube? How do I get into these situations?

I do some awkward maneuvering and make a dinosaur noise or two, and I manage it.

“What the fuck kind of noise did you just make?”

I open my mouth and let the bottle drop. “Sorry, what?”

“The –”

I circle a finger around his hole, and his sentence cuts off with a whimper.

I take a deep breath. I have self-control. I have self-control. If I say it often enough, maybe it’ll come true.

I slide one finger in, slowly, up to the first knuckle.

“Oikawa.”

“Hmm?”

“ _Please_ hurry up.”

“So polite, Iwa-chan.”

“Don’t you usually pout at me for being rude?”

“That’s why it shocks me when you’re polite!” I thrust the rest of my finger in, and whatever he was about to say disappears in a shudder and a moan.

I have self-control. I have self-control. I have self-control.

_Lies, all lies._

I kiss his neck, his shoulder, the part of his spine that I can reach. I set my teeth against the shell of his ear and the soft skin behind it. I add a second finger. I try not to think to hard about how warm Iwa-chan is around my fingers, the drawn-out whines he lets slip when I pull my fingers out slow, the whimper he cuts off when I start scissoring my fingers. I fail miserably. I bite his neck in revenge. He groans, a sound drawn from the depths of his being, and my revenge backfires. Good _god_.

When he gasps “ _Oikawa_ ,” I add a third finger and whimper against his spine. When I look up, his arm is shaking – he might be holding his leg up by sheer force of will at this point. _Jesus Christ_.

I’ve only done this a few times – well, relatively few – and they were all a good while ago, but – I remember – _right – there_ –

I crook my fingers and his entire body spasms, his head jerking back and nearly hitting me. I could’ve gotten a nosebleed. Nosebleeds are _not_ turn-ons. Well. Okay. Not when my boyfriend’s just headbutted me, they’re not. Even I have standards.

“Oikawa, what the _fuck are you taking your time for?_ ”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!”

He twists his head around to look at me. “Oikawa, you’re _long_ , not _thick_. And your fingers can only go so deep.”

“ _Well_.”

“That wasn’t an insult.”

I withdraw my fingers and watch his Adam’s Apple bob.

And then I realize all my work was for naught, ‘cause I have to put on a condom, and that is _not_ happening with one hand.

I wiggle my arm out from under him. Gotta do what I gotta do.

He rolls towards me, wincing as he lets his leg down. He thinks I don’t see, but I do. I kiss his nose, which he then wrinkles at me. I scrunch up my own nose in return, and he kisses it.

“I love you, Iwa-chan.”

He bumps his forehead against mine. “I love you too, Oikawa.”

He rips open the condom and slides it on for me, snorting and laughing as I gasp for air ‘cause he’s just jabbing his elbow right into my stomach. “Iwa- _chan_!”

He kisses my cheek and rolls back over, propping himself up on his elbow, and glances at me over his shoulder.

I don’t have to give in to this kind of appeasement. It’s my _choice_ to. And the choice is entirely unrelated to the way he lets his head fall so I have easy access to his neck, and _definitely_ unrelated to the way he bends his knee and wraps his arm around his thigh, and I’m just lying to myself now. He could’ve just informed me he’d murdered someone and I’d probably be willing to forgive him and move forward.

I shift over towards him, dragging my fingers over the inside of his thigh, smiling at the hitch in his breath. I lick a stripe up his neck and taste salt.

“Ready?” I murmur. He nods.

I guide myself in, slowly. Those three fingers were up his ass a week ago, not today, and I’m not entirely sure if he’s moaning out of pleasure or pain. He’s not telling me to stop, but I don’t want to push it.

I pause once I’m all the way in. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

I wrap my arm around his leg, right over his own arm, slotting my fingers through his.

“You can move, y’know. I’m not actually gonna break.”

“Are you sure? I always thought you were kind of delicate, Iwa-chan.”

He snorts. “Delicate, my ass.”

“Exactly, that’s what I’m worried about.”

He clenches around me and I gasp, involuntarily, it’s not like I have a _choice_.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

I bite his shoulder. I’m not answering that.

It makes me feel better, though, so I start moving, slowly, because I love him. I am a kind and wonderful and thoughtful human being. He is very tight and I want to bang him into the ground.

I kiss his neck instead.

He rocks back into me, and my stomach tightens. “Iwa-chan.”

His head lolls forward as he sighs and rolls his hips.

I keep my lips pressed against his skin as we work up a rhythm, slow and steady. I change my angle around until I find the one that makes him stutter my name, the one that makes his back arch, his toes curl. It doesn’t take long. I might not remember a single fact from history class, but I remember how to make Iwa-chan moan.

“ _God_ , Oikawa, right there –”

I lose my rhythm for a minute, and when I find it again, it’s faster, he’s moving faster. I dig my nails into his leg and he whines, gasping for breath, gasping _Tooru_ , and I let go of his leg and reach farther down to grab his dick.

“ _Oikawa_!”

I stroke him in time with my thrusts – as best as I can, anyway, ‘cause I can’t even really say I’ve got a rhythm anymore. He’s warm and tight and his ass feels good against my hips and he’s whining, moaning, spitting out my name when he’s got the breath for it, and rhythm is beyond me.

“I love you,” I whisper. “Iwa-chan. I love you, I love you, I –” I twist my hand just right and he cries out and spills over my hand, convulsing around me, _squeezing_ me, and a thrust and a half later I’m whimpering and squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my face into the pillow because _oh my god oh my god oh my god_.

A minute or two passes, in which we sit there and breathe heavily and I’m holding his limp dick because letting go would mean acknowledging the gross mess all over my fingers.

And then Iwa-chan removes my hand from his cock and places it directly on the sheets. “You’ll have to wash this set, too.”

I sigh and wipe my hand thoroughly. If I have to wash the sheets anyway, I may as well make a big mess.

I pull out slowly and stare at the condom. I make a face at it. It doesn’t remove itself and fly away into the garbage can on its own. I’m not as force-sensitive as I hoped I was.

I struggle into a seated position and stare at the unsurpassable barrier that is Iwa-chan’s body.

He falls onto his back and stares up at me.

I stare back at him.

“I’m not taking your condom to the trash for you.”

I huff. “Fine.”

Climbing over him is uncomfortable, but he still doesn’t offer to get up.

Used condoms are gross.

Climbing over him to get back into bed is also uncomfortable, but at this point I’ve got no choice.

I lie down on my side, back against the wall, so Iwa-chan doesn’t have to lie in the mess at the edge of the bed. He rolls over to face me, sliding his arm under the pillow and under my head. He’s not frowning like usual. I make a face at him and he snorts.

“So. Back to the important question. You really thought I cheated?” He’s teasing, smiling at me, and I love him like this, when he’s in our little secret world and laughing with me.

“It was your phrasing! I would never have doubted you otherwise.” I comb my fingers through his hair. It’s soft.

He just smiles at me, but I don’t think he’s worrying. I think he just doesn’t have anything to say. He’s just happy, wordlessly happy. And of all his faces, I think this one is my favorite. He’s always gorgeous: even when he’s frowning, he’s got this – aura of confidence, or something, but he always looks powerful and competent and strong. It feels like I’m looking up at him, half the time, even though he’s shorter than I am. Even when he’s scowling at me, he’s beautiful, perfect. Honestly, he could get some Deadpool-esque scarring, and I’d still think he was perfect. But – when he’s smiling – when he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the entire world, like I’m the only one worth looking at, when he’s giving me that smile he never shows anyone else – when he lets me see _that_ face, my heart grows three goddamn sizes and tries to break out of my chest entirely.

I run a finger down his nose. “I love you.”

He brushes my hair back. “I love you too.”

I lean in to kiss him, and nearly smash my nose into his when the alarm goes off and I jump. Iwa nearly whacks me in the face as he reaches for his phone, and when he finds it, he glares at it like it personally decided it was time to get up.

“ _Rude_ , alarm-clock-chan.”

He snickers. “Same. Time to get up?”

“You first.”

He rolls out of bed, giving me a perfect view of muscles and skin and butt. I feel blessed.

He holds his hand out to me. “You just wanna stare at my ass.”

“You know me very, _very_ well.”

“I know.”

I get my kiss, but it’s quick. We’re on a time limit here.

“Where’d my boxers go? I only brought one pair, I need those.”

“You _could_ go commando.”

“No, I cannot.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You never know ‘til you’ve tried.”

“I never want to know.”

“Are you –”

“If you’re not planning on getting dressed, I’ll go down and play as setter in your place.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan.”

I pout and get dressed, but I can’t pout for long – I look over and see myself in the mirror. More accurately, I see the hickeys on my neck, the dark purple bruises marring the perfect stretch of pale skin.

I love them.

He turns to me when he’s (unfortunately) fully clothed. “Do I look like I just had sex?”

“Well, you’ve got a hickey or two, but other than that, you look very put-together.”

“So do you. I guess this is the best we’re gonna get.”

I nod. “You’re leaving after practice?”

He nods. “I’m only here for a week. Come visit me on Saturday or Sunday? I don’t want to leave without seeing you again.”

I pull in a deep breath. No crying. None. “I’ll be there.”

He blinks at me, and then I’m in his arms, gasping in air to stop the tears. No crying. No crying. It’ll just make him feel guilty, and I can’t show up to practice looking like I’ve been crying. I clutch at him, digging my fingers into his back like it’ll make him stay, and his arms are wrapped around me like iron, like he can bring me to America with him. His forehead is pressing into my shoulder so hard it might leave a bruise. I don’t even care. I don’t like living without him. It feels like a piece of me is gone.

But these are the choices we made, the best we could do for ourselves right now. It’s only for a few years. He said he’d come back to Japan after college, but if he decides to stay in America, I’ll go there. I’ll learn English. I don’t care.

I pull in a deep breath. It’s okay. I’ll see him in a little over a week, and then I’ll see him again in a month or two. We’ll survive. He’ll come back to me. “Maybe I’ll skip a few days and fly over to visit you one weekend.”

He nods. “Good. Come.”

I won’t point out the roughness in his voice. He knows it’s there. Mine doesn’t sound much better, honestly.

“Ready to go?”

He nods again and pulls away. “Let’s go kick Kirei’s ass.”

I snort. “Perfect.”

We wander over to the gym, hand in hand, and I point out all the things he missed last night – the dorm that’s supposed to be haunted, the dorm where some kid messed up tea so badly he set off the fire alarm, the building that’s perfect for studying because all the rooms are soundproofed – it was built a few years ago, after people started watching videos in class.

“You should be a tour guide.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to that many people. I’d have to be nice to all of them.”

“You could fake it.”

“But it wouldn’t be very fun. I’d rather give _you_ a tour. I _like_ you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Somehow, we make it to the gym on time, waltzing in just as the coach begins to look around for me.

“We’ve got a practice match today! You’re playing in it. Is your boyfriend playing?” He barks.

There is _no_ reason for me to be so happy about someone calling Iwa-chan my boyfriend, but I am _absolutely_ happy about it.

I look over at my boyfriend. “Are you playing?”

“Am I allowed to play in a practice match?”

Coach shrugs. “It’s always good to bring in new people once in a while. Otherwise, switching out one player for another messes up the team, and at the end of the year when the seniors leave and freshman come in, the guys who stay are thrown off by new blood. And you’re good. You won’t make us look bad.”

“Sure.”

“Good. You’ll be number 14.”

“All right.”

We head off to the locker rooms, but Yuusuke grabs me and drags me aside. I wave to Iwa-chan and he shakes his head at me, entering the locker room without me. I wish him luck.

“Did it work? Did you get laid?” Yuusuke hisses at me.

“Three times. You did good.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Also, don’t grab that shoulder, it’s a little bruised.”

He lets go like he’s been caught touching a holy relic. “Oh my god.”

I dance back towards the locker room. “Never underestimate your senpai.”

“Never,” Yuusuke swears devoutly. “Also, Oikawa –”

“Yeah?”

“The team we’re playing against – it’s our rival. We lost our last game against them. You, Ryu, and Iwaizumi are all playing today because Coach is hoping new people will help us win, or help us see something we didn’t see last time we played. I know you were good at that in high school – we watched you play, we saw how you dealt with Karasuno’s #10 and all their weird plays, we know you’ve got an eye for that kind of thing. So if you see something, let us know, all right?”

“All right.”

Iwa-chan looks at me weird when we walk in, but he doesn’t say anything. Ah well. He’ll tell me later if something’s bothering him.

A few minutes later we’re out on the court, warming up, and this time it actually _matters_ that I warm up, because I’m actually playing, and because I’m playing with Iwa-chan.

Life is good.

The rival team arrives half an hour into warm-ups, and we line up to greet them. They bow back and thank us. Formalities over, we resume practice, albeit with more glances over at opponents. That one – the one with the Mohawk – easily excitable, but better for it. Shutting him down will be important, if only because the more hyped up he gets, the harder it’ll be to stop him. And the libero has good reflexes. We’ll have to avoid him. That one guy – he’s gotta be close to two meters. He’s gonna be hard to get around. We’ll have to figure that out.

And then the ref is flipping a coin and it’s decided: we’re serving first.

To be more specific, according to the rotation, _I’m_ serving first.

And when we stand on the court, Iwa-chan is in front of me, and all is well.

He puts his hands behind his head protectively and turns to Ryu. “Watch out for the back of your head, just in case.”

“Iwa-chan!” I huff. Ryu looks nervous. Now _I’m_ nervous. Last time he said that was in the match against Karasuno, which I don’t remember with incredible fondness.

Although, that _was_ the match where I tried that one serve – the one where –

Hmm.

For the first time, I look at the coach as someone who matters. I look at myself from his point of view, and I see someone who _seemed_ amazing in high school, but came to college and was too distracted to do much.

This is an assessment.

I sigh. It’s really all my own fault, but it’s still annoying.

Does everyone else know? Does everyone else see that I’m not as good as I should be? Does Iwa-chan know? Is that what they told him in the locker room – that I’m not what they expected? Is that what he’s telling me now – that I should pull out all the stops, reassure them that I deserve to be a regular? Am I reading way too much into this?

Does it matter?

I close my eyes, hold the ball up to my face, and turn inward. First thing’s first: body. How am I feeling? A little sore – hips, ass – a little bruised – neck, waist – and that weird feeling that happens when muscles are recovering from a cramp – calves, thighs. All to be expected, and honestly, it’s not bad. My muscles are warm, my body has been broken in. I’m ready to do this. I’ve got the energy.

Second: mental state. Doubt? None. Focus? Check. Clarity? Like a crystal.

Third: assessment of the serve itself. The best place to hit it would be between the libero and Mohawk, in the back row – demoralize them, scare them, instill fear into their hearts. I tried that last time, but it didn’t work. Why? Wrong angle for the amount of power I gave it. Can I correct it this time? Yes. Yes, I can.

I hear the whistle blow like it’s blowing from three miles away, but when I open my eyes, the world bursts into existence around me.

_There. That’s where it’s gotta go._

I toss the ball into the air, run, and pour power into my legs as I jump, in slow motion, pulling in a deep breath, eye on the ball as it meets my hand mid-air, fitting into the palm of my hand like it was made to be there. I exhale as I give it everything I’ve got, every muscle in my arm, my shoulder, my back, my entire body, _everything_ into that hit – stopping whatever momentum the ball had – reversing it – putting it – right – _there_.

I hit the ground within two seconds of leaving it, and only after the ball hit the ground between Mohawk and Libero with a sound that reverberates around the gym and possibly over the entire island of Japan.

Other than the sound of the ball bouncing, all I hear is silence.

The ref blows his whistle and raises his arm on our side.

The silence disappears, buried under the weight of cheers, yells, a whistle from Kenji.

“Incredible!” Yuusuke screams, whacking me on the back. “Holy shit!”

“What _was_ that? What _was_ that? What the _hell_?” Kenji yells.

Iwa-chan is grinning when he nudges Ryu. “See, imagine if _that_ had hit you in the head. You’d be dead.”

“ _That_ one has _never_ hit anyone in the head, Iwa-chan, and you know it.”

“That’s only the second time you’ve done it, and the first time it was out.”

“But it went over the net both times, and didn’t hit anyone in the head, ever, so really, I have a 100% success rate in terms of not killing anyone with that particular serve.”

“That phrasing implies you’ve killed people with other serves, though, so my advice still stands.”

“Wait, that’s not –”

“We’re in the middle of a match, no time to argue technicalities, sorry!”

“You’ve never said sorry before in your life!” I rant, but he’s right, and I get to serve again.

I don’t get to serve like that again until halfway through the set; my muscles enjoy not being dead, and so do I. But doing it twice in one set is probably the most awesome thing I’ve ever done, so I’m not complaining.

I feel alive again, like I’m captain of a team again, like Iwa-chan never stopped being my ace. I watch the other side, and I _see_ the way they work, the way they move, the things that mess them up and the things that spur them on, and – and I convey it all to Yuusuke, who is, actually, my captain, and who confirms my observations and vets my plans.

It’s good. It’s all good.

We win that set.

We head into the next set feeling invincible, and we _are_. We win the second set, too.

We win two matches in a row, all four sets, without even going into a deuce.

I’m impressed. Yuusuke is impressed. Coach is impressed. Iwa-chan isn’t even remotely shocked. Of course not – this is how he expects me to play, because he hasn’t seen me slacking off for the past eight weeks.

I have absolutely been slacking off for the past eight weeks.

Sigh. I guess I’ll have to get a handle on that. Remember how to focus. Remember that Iwa-chan isn’t the only person I can trust. Stop being weird.

Coach pats me on the back on the way back to the locker rooms, after we’ve bowed to each other and thanked each other and cleaned up. “Now I know you can play like that, I’ll expect it even when your man isn’t around, got me?”

I salute. “Yes, Coach.”

“Good.”

“Pork buns?” Yuusuke asks the team at large, as if anyone would say no.

“Only if you’re paying for Iwa-chan as well,” I insist. I will absolutely boycott pork buns if Iwa-chan can’t come.

“Of course! Would I throw our guest under the bus?”

“Probably.”

“Actually –” Iwa-chan holds up a finger. “I’ve gotta get going. I’ve got a bit of a drive, and I don’t want to leave too late.”

“Oh. Right.” My stomach drops, but I ignore it. I’d rather he be safe than with me.

“I’ll help clean up, though.”

Yuusuke claps him on the back. “I like you. Come visit more often.”

“You can pay for the plane tickets.”

“Never mind.”

Iwa seems largely focused on getting into the supply closet alone with Ryu, but he doesn’t offer any explanation, so I don’t ask. They get their share of cleaning done in the end, anyway.

“Yuusuke,” I call across the gym. “I’m gonna walk Iwa-chan to his car, all right? I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes.”

“All right! Bye, Iwaizumi! Nice to meet you!”

Iwa-chan bows to the team. “Thank you for letting me play with you!”

They all bow back. “Thank you for joining us!”

He waves as we leave the gym.

We head to his car slowly, hand in hand.

“Oikawa?”

“Iwa-chan?”

“Kirei was talking to me – which, generally speaking, would just piss me off, but – he said you weren’t chosen for the first practice match, because you were playing badly. If –”

I hold up my free hand. “I had a hard time adjusting, but now that I’ve realized it, I fully intend to begin playing better than I did in high school and to regain my usual good humor.”

“Did you write that on a résumé?”

“No, but actually, that’s a good idea.”

He squeezes my hand. “Are you sure you’re all right now? Are you sure you’ll be okay when I leave, or will you – I don’t know – sink back into doom and gloom again?”

“I have _never_ been doom and gloom. I have _always_ been a ray of sunshine and purity. I was just a little distracted for a few weeks. I’ll get focused again.”

We reach his car. He turns to face me. “If you need anything, tell me, all right? I’ll – fly over or something. I don’t know. I gave Ryu my number and made him promise to text me if you start acting weird again.”

“Why Ryu?”

“He’s a good kid and he’ll tell me. Also, he’s easy to intimidate, so he’ll actually _text_ me.”

“You’ve just given me a nursemaid.”

“He’d be good at it.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. I shrug instead. Iwa-chan grins at me. He knows when I’m beaten.

“I’ll see you in a week, right?”

I nod. I’m heading down to see him this weekend come hell or high water.

He kisses my nose, first, then finds my mouth. “I love you, Oikawa.”

“Love you too, Iwa-chan.”

I kiss him one more time and open his car door for him. He rolls his eyes at me, but lets me shut it after he gets in, too. I step away and he waves and I watch until his car turns out of the parking lot and disappears from sight.

I’ll see him soon.

I take a deep breath. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll see him in a week.

And I’ve got a sweatshirt that smells like him waiting for me in my dorm.

I hum to myself as I walk away. I hope the pork buns don’t take too long. I’ve got laundry to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Deleted scene:  
> *iwa whistles* “oikawa, can you whistle?”  
> “You fucker, you know I can’t whistle.”  
> “Have you ever tried?” someone else asks  
> oikawa makes a lil hole with his lips and blows  
> iwa snorts  
> “it’s the same face I make when I suck your dick, ‘cause it’s so small”  
> *me and my roommates* "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH"
> 
> side note: when I saw the first shot of [Oikawa](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/haikyuu/images/e/e5/Kaine-2014-06-14-03h04m04s54.png/revision/latest?cb=20140614121105) I nicknamed him [Madonna with the Long Neck](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/Parmigianino_-_Madonna_dal_collo_lungo_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg) so obvi his favorite singer had to be Madonna


End file.
